In a panic and a fluster,
she hastily makes the call.
The voice on the other end reassures her...
offers some simple advice.
The conversation ends and she tries to take control,
another phone call and appointment,
a cup of coffee and a muffin...
things appear calmer. For now.
Torn by location she drifts in between homes,
questioning the benefits in both.
Testing friendships make things hard,
non-comitted men can make it unbearable.
And so she finds herself this way.
Torn not just by location,
but by of making the difficult decisions.
The tumultuous journey she's on,
will no doubt tether out,
but the ride is a difficult one to watch.
The phone calls and advice,
the postcards and patience,
can seem so irrelevant when so far away.
Torn to protect her from the journey,
or let her experience the peaks or troughs,
I just want her to be ok.
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